


(Most) Starships Were Meant To Fly

by island-mountain-glacier (Obscurity)



Category: Criminal Minds, Forever (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Space, Gen, Logical but made up science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8174977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obscurity/pseuds/island-mountain-glacier
Summary: “Go maintain a base on B-18, they said,” Jo mutters in a mocking voice. “It’ll be fun! Just you and the rest of the New York team on an uninhabited planet in the middle of nowhere for eight years!”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArgylePirateWD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/gifts).



> I had originally planned to write a casefic, but, having never done that before, I greatly underestimated the amount of time and research that would go into it. Partway through writing it, I realized that I wouldn't have anything good by the due date, so I wrote this as a Plan B. 
> 
> I will continue to work on the original fic, but I do want to make it good. Hopefully you enjoy this!
> 
> Title is from StarShips by Nicki Minaj, and it was the best of over 10 other titles which were all really bad.
> 
> Jo/Emily if you squint really hard.

Jo is about halfway through her patrol shift when her mini-ship breaks down and the Comm system goes offline. She feels like she really should be used to it by now, considering that half of its line is being snatched up by collectors back on Earth, due to its “age” and “historical importance”. She gives the gas tank a hefty kick and it groans back at her.

“Go maintain a base on B-18, they said,” Jo mutters in a mocking voice. “It’ll be fun! Just you and the rest of the New York team on an uninhabited planet in the middle of nowhere for eight years!”

She spins the 3D map that Lucas patched together for her and glowers at it bitterly. It can only zoom out so far, and she can’t see Earth and B-18 on the screen at the same time. One year travel time at a speed several thousands times faster than light does establish quite the distance between them, and it makes her feel a bit homesick.

Jo leans back in her chair, trying to ignore the loud creaking sound that comes from the base, and reaches for the emergency thrust handle. If she was careful, pulling it would be enough to get her in range of the local Comm system and someone could go up and fetch her. There were risks, like getting close enough for gravity to pull her all the way down, but the chances of that happening were low enough.

Jo’s about to give it a shot when she catches a flash of light in one of the side mirrors. She twists around and turns off the tint on the back window just as a large ship, probably a newer line, comes into view. It’s sleek, clean, and, judging by the logo on the side, government issue. It probably doesn’t break down every two weeks.

A safer plan of action available, Jo re-tints the windows and turns on the flare. The entire outside surface of the ship is illuminated, pouring light out from every panel. There’s no way the other ship can miss it.

(The flare is probably a one time thing, and Jo laments not trying harder to convince the New York team’s tech specialist come along. Maybe if she had, the mini-ship would have stopped dying.)

There are several seconds of complete silence. With the flares on, Jo can’t see outside, and she hopes that they have the resources to help her.

The mini-ship lurches suddenly and starts to move backwards. It’s a tractor beam, Jo recognizes. She hates tractor beams. They’ve never been properly perfected, and once you’ve been caught in one, it’s a bumpy ride until you’re free.

Jo turns off the flare (It takes her a few tries. It turns out you have to press the flare button twice.) and tint just as the mini-ship stutters to a halt and drops half a foot into the docking bay of the bigger ship. Belatedly, she presses the button to release the landing gear, and the mini-ship stops wobbling and rises up a few inches.

There’s no real protocol for a situation like this that she can remember, so she unbuckles, opens the door, and digs her identification out of the bin.

After a few seconds, a blonde woman appears just outside the door, dressed in the standard Department of Space Exploration uniform. The insignia of the Early Development Unit is sown onto the sleeve of her jacket. When she spots Jo, she relaxes and her right hand drops from where it was hovering just above her hip. Jo wonders briefly if tranqs are still standard issue.

“My name is Jennifer Jareau,” the woman says. She sounds like she’s trying to be curt, but a look of concern dulls the effect. “I’m with the DSE. We tried to contact your ship earlier, but we got no response.” She hesitates. “Er, may I ask how you got into this situation?” She gives Jo a quick once over, probably trying to assess what she can, but her eyes stutter over the shirt Jo is wearing.

On B-18, uniforms quickly gave way to casual wear, which tended to fit better under most of the suits needed for being out in open space or on-planet exploration. The “one batch of laundry for the entire team per week” rule due to water rationing quickly came to mean that casual clothes became communal clothes. Shirts, pants, and pretty much anything else became irreparably mixed up in the wash. It simply wasn’t worth the time it took to sort them back out again.

The shirt Jo has on is probably one of Lucas’. Who else would bring a shirt with a horror movie werewolf silk-screen printed onto the front?

“I’m Jo Martinez, Global Space Administration,” Jo says, holding up her ID. She help but feel like a teen trying to buy alcohol. The werewolf shirt is _totally_ GSA approved. “I’m part of the New York team stationed on B-18. We’re on the third year of an eight year posting. I was on patrol when my mini-ship’s engines broke down. The long-range Comms and the receiver did as well.”

Jareau looks around the inside of the mini-ship. “I’m not surprised,” she says, a bit of humor in her voice. “B-18, right? That’s pretty convenient, since that’s actually where we’re heading.” She backs up slightly and gestures for Jo to come out of the mini-ship.

Jo lets out a breath of relief. There’s not much of a center console for her to climb over so she’s able to slide out of the mini-ship pretty easily.

Jareau presses a button on her watch and speaks into it. “New York from B-18,” she says. “Ship malfunction.”

Jo can’t help but feel a bit jealous about her tech. The only kind of personal Comms that she and her team have are handheld and irreplaceable. Henry himself seems to have a penchant for losing his, and if she has to go on another half-hour hunt to find it, she’s certain she’ll end up duct taping it to his face.

A light on her watch blinks twice, once pink and once green. Jareau presses another button and a tinny voice comes out of the speaker on the watch. 

A very emotive, feminine voice comes through. “That poor mini-ship looks like it hasn’t seen a tech’s eye in years.” (Four years, to be exact, but Jo isn’t about to volunteer that information without prompting.) “What’s the line?”

“32C5, military issue,” Jo says, hoping that her voice will carry all the way to the watch. For the first time, she realizes that she’s probably going to have to learn ten years worth of new technology when she returns to Earth. She doesn’t really look forward to the prospect.

“Ohhh boy,” the woman says. “That’s an oldie, even, like, ten years ago. I’ll give her the care your techie obviously hasn’t.”

Jo feels obligated to correct her, but the watch beeps and the screen flashes a quick, “CALL ENDED”.

“That’s Penelope Garcia, our tech specialist,” Jareau says. “She’s one of the best techs with the DSE, so you don’t have to worry about her doing any damage to your ship.”

Jo, honest to god, does not care what happens to the ship. If it ended up being completely irreparable, all she’d have to do is borrow someone else’s mini-ship when it’s her turn to go on patrol. They’re all pretty much sharing everything at this point. “Ok,” she says. “Thanks.”

“Good,” Jareau says, smiling. She places her hand on a scanner and the doors in front of them part. It’s a step up from the Comm scanning devices that are installed on the base in B-18. “I’m sure you’re in need of a break, so we’ll wait until we’ve properly landed on B-18 before we begin work on our report. Don’t feel obligated to act formal.”

“Alright,” Jo says. As tempting as it sounds, she’s not actually tired or scared, or anything much, so she takes the safer route. “Thank you.”

The conversation drops as Jareau leads Jo to the bridge where a handful of other people are seated, buckled into their chairs.

“Take a seat,” Jareau says with a slight smile and a quick gesture to the space around the room. “Anywhere is fine. I’m going to call your team to let them know about the check-in and your safety.”

Jareau walks up to the front of the room and presses a few buttons on her watch. A large screen that takes up most of the space on the wall flickers on. The ambient lighting yellows a bit as the speakers play a startup sound in unison. The centuries-old dial tone begins to play.

Jo hesitantly takes the seat next to a woman who’s sitting opposite to the door.

“Emily Prentiss,” the woman says, taking notice of her almost immediately. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Jo,” she replies, “Martinez, New York Team, B-18?” She doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but she’s not sure how much anyone else in the room knows.

“I hope you’re all in one piece?” Prentiss asks.

Jo nods. “I’m completely fine. It’s not much that hasn’t happened before.”

“Really?”

“My mini-ship is pretty old,” Jo says. “It’s not the first time the engines or the Comms have gone out. It’s just the first time they went out at the same time.”

Prentiss gives her a look of strong concern. Jo can’t really blame her. She’s developed a certain kind of nonchalance that comes from hanging out around Henry and Lucas and driving a half a century old mini-ship for four years.

“I was going to use the emergency thrust to try to get into range of the local Comm system,” Jo continues. “It was my safest bet.” She decides not to add in the part where the mini-ship doesn’t have much by way of oxygen storage, so she really couldn’t have waited for someone else to notice she was just sitting up there cold. It feels too much like a grab for sympathy.

A look of confusion crosses Prentiss’ face, but it disappears quickly. “The emergency thrust mechanism was removed about two years back, just before we started our own mission,” she explains. “I’d forgotten that most ships still had them. I don’t know if anything’s been done about it since.”

“They still haven’t figured out trans-galactic communication yet?” Jo asks.

“Alas,” another woman says as she walks through the doors, “they have not. Satellite technology is still in the lead for effectiveness and there’s just too much open space out there. The earth’s news remains hidden from us until our return.” She takes the seat next to Jo. “The name’s Garcia, Penelope Garcia, and your ship is really sad.”

“It is,” Jo agrees. She hesitates, but makes the decision to continue. “We don’t actually have a tech specialist. Ours wanted to stay home.”

Garcia looks personally affronted by this statement. “This is a travesty!” She hastily brings up her watch and presses a few of the buttons. It flashes a greyish pink then red. “Damask and Red for David Rossi,” she murmurs to herself.

Jo’s not on the New York team for nothing, and she catches on quickly. Colors correspond to initials. It’s a pretty neat system, but she can’t see if it giving much of an advantage over any other.

“Rossi,” Garcia says quickly, “Co-Captain, we need to extend our stay at B-18.”

“...Alright.” Rossi’s voice comes through the speakers after a few seconds of silence. “May I ask why?”

“The New York team doesn’t have a tech,” Garcia says. “I’m going to need extra time to make sure everything’s in working order.”

“We do have a multi-hobbyist who’s been doing most of the repairs for us,” Jo mentions.

“That’s even worse!” Garcia exclaims. “You can see why we can’t leave them like this, right, Boss?”

There’s a bit of quiet again before Rossi replies. “I’ve changed the schedule to add a few extra days,” he says. “Is that amenable?”

“It is, sir,” Garcia says. “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome.”

The call ends, and Garcia smiles widely. “There we go. I hope the rest of your ships aren’t in the same state as that one. I’m a miracle worker, but I can only fix so many ships at a time.”

“Thankfully not,” Jo replies. “I just drew the short straw.” There’s something about Garcia that Jo really likes. She’s got a wonderful, happy demeanor and a kind of uplifting self-confidence that Jo hasn’t seen in anyone in a while. It would probably do Lucas a world of good to get a chance to talk to her.

Garcia nods sympathetically. 

The speakers positioned at the corners of the room play a series of notes before half of the New York team appears on the screen. Jo starts. It had taken them a long time to answer the call.

“Oh, thank god you’re alive, Jo,” Lucas says, his face a little too close to the camera. Behind him, there’s a chorus of relieved reactions. “Your signal dropped out like half an hour ago. We were trying to locate you with the scanners but we were getting some weird readings.”

“Those would be the jammers,” Garcia says. “It’s a safety precaution.”

“Jammer?” Lucas asks, but Henry appears suddenly, his face even closer to the camera as he crowds Lucas out of the way. When Jo gets back to the base, she’s moving the camera further away from the monitor.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “You’re getting a full check-up when you get back.”

Jo laughs. “I’m fine. Nothing happened to me. My mini-ship malfunctioned and I got picked up by the DSE.

“The DSE?” Mike asks. At least he has the grace to stand further away from the camera.

“We were sent to check-in on the bases that the GSA established in the A and B sectors and write up full reports on each,” Jareau explains. “We’ve just come from B-13.”

Joanna, who is sitting on the swivel chair, scoots forward so that she’s closer to the screen. Lucas rearranges himself so that he’s right behind her.

“I’m Joanna Reece, current captain of the base on B-18,” she says, addressing the EDU team. “We have a series of logs detailing all of our activities since our arrival three years ago, and we will assist where we can.” Her moment of professionalism over, she offers a small soft smile to Jo. “It’s good to see you safe,” she says.

***

It takes far too long for Jo’s liking to land and return to the base.

The natural atmosphere of B-18 has a two year acclimation period where being outside without a suit is still dangerous. While Jo can walk through most outdoor areas without having to worry, all seven members of the EDU (Early Development Unit) have to put on surface suits to get from the landing area to the base itself.

Lucas is standing by the door that leads to the common area when they arrive. The second Jo arrives with the EDU, he wraps her up in a huge hug. “That’s a really big ship,” he says.

“It is,” Jo agrees. It’s at least twice the size of the base itself.

Lucas opens the door to the clearing chamber and they all pile in. The EDU removes their suits as the chamber floods the room to fit the STP of Earth.

“The doc’s waiting,” Lucas says as the next set of doors slide open. “I’ll lead these guys to the conference room.”

“Thank you,” Jo says with a smile, “and there’s no need to worry about me, I’m perfectly fine, as I’m sure Henry will agree.”

Lucas nods. “You know best,” he says. “I’ll see you soon.”

When the New York team first got to the base on B-18, the inside walls had all been the dreary grey of concrete. Lucas had take to sprucing up the place, and over time it began to look significantly more homey.

The little things that he pieced together from spare parts and some of B-18’s resources weren’t professional looking in any sense (he had too many varying hobbies for that), but they added such a sense of homeliness and domesticity that Jo couldn’t imagine the base without them.

Henry is waiting for her in the hospital wing, though calling it a wing is a bit of an over exaggeration. It’s really more of a large room that’s been filled with enough machinery and beds to make it a bit more cramped. It reminds Jo a bit of her short stint in the ISS but with gravity.

“I hope you know nothing happened to me physically,” Jo says when Henry all but throws open the door when she presses the bell. “The mini-ship just broke down.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Henry says and he waves her into the room. He holds out his hand and Jo sighs and offers him the inside of her wrist. Henry smiles and presses the scanner onto it. He takes his Comm out of his pocket and taps on it for a few seconds before the results pop up on the small screen he has installed on the wall. “On the whole, you appear to be fine.”

“Like I said.”

Henry does a double-take and squints at the screen. “That’s odd,” he muses. 

“What is it?” Jo asks.

“You haven’t been getting your full eight hours of sleep,” is Henry’s final verdict after period of heavy deliberation and Jo mock-scowls. “You haven’t been following the regiment have you?”

“No one has, Henry,” she says. “Not even you.”

Henry makes a face, but he doesn’t deny the claim.

“Henry!” Jo fake gasps. “What would Abe say?”

“Hopefully nothing,” Henry says grumpily. “He’s the only one who manages to get enough sleep, and that’s only because he keeps taking naps.”

Jo laughs. “We could all learn something from him,” she says and she pulls the scanner off of her wrist. “You should meet the EDU team. They have a tech who’s dedicated to fixing up some of our stuff.”

“It wasn’t in the mission details that we were going to to get a visit from the DSE,” Henry says, taking the scanner from her and putting it into the disinfectant chamber.

“You know how it is with these decade missions,” Jo replies. “A lot of decisions are made once you’re out of range.”

“A bit too well,” Henry says mournfully. “As things are, you’re in good condition, so I can officially declare this check-up complete.”

“Like I said I’d be,” Jo reminds him again. “Come on, I’m not going to let you hole up in here all day.

***

Since most of the EDU’s check-in that requires a formal meeting has to do with what’s already in the files, it’s mostly just a quick data transfer and a review of their results. Not all of the EDU members are in the conference room with Joanna and Mike.

“It’s a division of labor,” Prentiss had explain on the way to the base. “Hotchner and Rossi review the raw data while we form individual assessments based on our experiences with the crew and facility.”

When Henry and Jo and enter the communal room adjacent to the conference room, most of the EDU members are speaking amongst themselves. Given, they don’t have much of a choice. Most of the New York crew is still spread out around the base, attending to their usual tasks. Jo hopes that Abe has dinner duty.

Lucas has struck up a conversation with Garcia, to Jo’s delight. They’re both talking animatedly, probably about a shared interest. Lucas could probably learn a lot from her, given that he’s practically the impromptu tech.

“The person that Lucas is talking to is Penelope Garcia,” Jo tells Henry. She closes the door behind them. “Over there are Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss.”

Prentiss looks up and, noticing the two of them, waves them over. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the main crew,” she says. “This is Spencer Reid”--the young man who seemed to be deeply absorbed in telling his neighbor about something in depth stops in the middle of his sentence and looks up--“and Derek Morgan. Spencer and Derek, these are Jo Martinez and Henry Morgan.”

Derek Morgan and Henry Morgan. The coincidence begs mention, but Jo’s definitely not going to be the one to say it. 

“It’s nice to meet you formally, Martinez,” Morgan says. “And you...Morgan.” He smiles. Oh, Jo thinks, there it is.

Reid looks pensive but then he suddenly launches into a one-sided talk about the etymology of the surname Morgan. It quickly turns into a back and forth conversation between Henry and Reid discussing the origins of last names. Jo hears a few off-handed mentions of Adam--never by name--and is surprised that Henry’s willing to bring him up at all. Maybe it’s an intellectual thing, to use all of one’s resources, when faced with someone who knows just as much, or possibly even more.

“Is Henry prone to rambling on like this?” Prentiss asks when a few minutes have passed.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Jo says.

“Oh boy,” Prentiss says. “This could go on for hours.”

They’re saved when the door to the conference room opens.

“You’re right on schedule,” Rossi says as he exits the room with another man (the other co-captain, Aaron Hotchner, Prentiss tells her), Joanna, and Mike right behind him.

***

It’s lunchtime, and both teams are eating in the mess hall when _Toxic_ by Britney Spears begins to blare out of the speakers. It’s actually at a good volume, not painfully loud but not so quiet that everyone notices it. Most of the New York team immediately looks to Lucas while the EDU glances around in confusion.

Jo spots Garcia, who is smiling to herself like she knows exactly what’s going on. Jo doesn’t doubt that she has something to do with this.

Lucas, suddenly aware that everyone is looking at him, stops tapping at his Comm and sets it down slowly onto the table, face down. It’s pretty obvious that he’s trying to hide a smile.

“It’s a classic,” he complains when Joanna overrides the music and turns it off.

***

Jo borrows Mike’s mini-ship when it’s her turn with the collection shift. She flips his activation card up a few times and catches it as she makes her way through the hangar. She’s just about to reach the ship when she tosses it up again, and Prentiss, appearing suddenly, catches it going down.

“Hey,” she says in greeting, handing the card back to Jo. “Penelope’s been working on your ship for the past few hours.”

“Oh, hi! It giving her grief?” Jo asks, startled; she hadn’t seen Prentiss come up to her. She takes a quick breath to recompose herself.

“Lots of it,” Prentiss says. “I had no idea a single ship could have that many problems.”

Jo laughs. “It is pretty old.”

“That can’t have all come from just age,” Prentiss says.

“Age and use,” Jo replies. “I get a lot of miles in around here.”

“Were you actually assigned that at the beginning of the mission?” Prentiss asks. “That doesn’t look up to standards.”

“The economy was in a pit four years ago,” Jo reminds her, “so the standards were overlooked for a lot of ships that were distributed. It hasn’t exploded yet though, so, aside from all of the regular malfunctions, it’s pretty much reached expectations.”

“Are the rest of the ships any better?” Prentiss gives Mike’s ship a concerned look.

“This one’s a 47C8, exploration issue,” Jo says. “Compared to my 32C5 military, it’s got less fun but potentially dangerous features, and it’s built sturdier to go further and last longer. It was one of the best ones available at the time.” She makes a face. “I sound like an advertisement.”

Prentiss laughs. “I almost forgot about those. I haven’t heard one of them in two years.”

“It’s a wonder I remembered them at all, after four,” Jo says, a smile on her face. “It’s really a nice break, though I do miss the commodities.”

Jo sticks the card into the scanner and the drivers side door pops open. “Mine can’t do that either,” she adds. “These are actually pretty safe, if you’re worried that I’m going to get hurt.”

“I’m pretty worried, knowing that you used to go out in that thing,” Prentiss says, looking back in the direction of Jo’s mini-ship.

“You can always come along,” Jo says. She wants to laugh and play it off as a joke, but she genuinely would like to get to know more about her. She has a quality about her that’s similar to Henry, and it makes her think that she’s probably sitting on a wellspring of interesting secrets. A walking enigma, if she remembers the terminology correctly.

“I’d like that, actually,” Prentiss replies, to Jo’s surprise. “We’ve never stayed this long on a base before. Usually it’s in and out, so I’ve never gotten the experience.”

Jo waves the card again and the other door pops open. “Well,” she says, grinning. “today’s your lucky day. I’m sample collecting from the second moon today. It’s got a bit more of a view than most of the on-planet jobs.”

They both climb into the mini-ship and buckle in. Jo presses the card onto the scanner pad by the controls and the ship begins to hover. Jo puts the landing gear away and steers it to the exit gate before pointing the engines straight down and propelling the ship upwards. 

The moon itself is quite the sight, all greenish-blue from the copper patina that’s covering almost the entire surface.

“That’s really impressive,” Prentiss says. “Is the entire moon like this?”

“It is,” Jo confirms. She lands the mini-ship on the surface of the moon carefully.

“One of the benefits of exploration issues are that they have a bunch extra features so you don’t actually have to leave the mini-ship,” Jo says. “That’s not a comfort that you can get with any of the military issues.”

“Have you actually set foot on this moon before?” Prentiss asks.

“Not this one,” Jo admits, “but I did when I had to collect samples from the first one. That one’s silicone based. The trip was a mess. Low-gravity suits and sand don’t mix.”

Prentiss gives an amused laugh. “That must have been quite the trip.”

“I hope I never have to repeat the experience,” Jo says. She presses a few buttons and the mini-ship anchors itself into place before it drills out a core sample. There’s a few thunks in the back as the core is slid into a sample tube for safe-keeping.

Jo unbuckles and gets up, walking to the back of the ship. “Look at this,” she says, propping the tube up. The top of the core sample has the copper patina, a vibrant blue green, but just beneath it is normal, pure copper going all the way down to the bottom.”

Prentiss’ eyebrows raise. “Oh!” she says, her eyes wide.

“You’ll get slightly different colors for the patina depending on where you are on the moon,” Jo says, “but the copper composition is pretty much the same everywhere.”

She puts the tube back and returns to the driver’s seat. “We’ve got to get a few more from the other side,” Jo explains as she lifts off. “That’s got an even nicer view.”

Jo flies high, and, as the ridges and canyons of the moon begin to disappear from beneath them, B-18 comes into view. It’s really a pretty planet, in Jo’s opinion. According to most of the team, it doesn’t quite measure up to Earth, but Jo prefers it. The light that the plants absorb are a bit different than that on earth, so they tend to maintain a vibrant red color year round. Sufficient water supply and a similar atmosphere to Earth gives the planet a strange mix of red and blue that occasionally fades to a bright violet.

Prentiss looks impressed by the view. She could have seen B-18 from her ship, but it’s a bit different when viewed from the moon. “Oh,” she whispers. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah,” Jo agrees. “It’s beautiful.”

***

“It’s fixed!” Garcia declares when Jo and Prentiss stumble out of the mini-ship, their arms filled with the extremely heavy core samples.

“Hallelujah,” Jo declares. “Thank you.” She leans her samples up against the wall of the hangar. “Thank you,” she says again. She’d probably say it a thousand more times if the overhead speakers didn’t start blasting _Never Gonna Give You Up_.

Garcia rushes to turn it off. “I may have given Lucas too much power,” she says, the regret evident in her voice.

“The next five years are going to be murder,” Jo laments.

Prentiss nods sympathetically.

***

Though the extent of the EDU’s stay is only five days, it’s painful when it comes time for them to say their goodbyes. Jo begins to understand why their visit lengths never tended to exceed two days.

“We’ll be in the B sector for at least six more months,” Garcia assures them. “With the work I’ve done on your Comm system, you’ll definitely be able to reach us right up until we reach the edge.” She’d also moved the camera for the large scale calls further back. Jo had noticed it when she’d gone in there to change it herself.

“You,” Jo says, “are a goddess.”

Garcia preens. “And you and the New York team are my favored people,” she says, “so you all had better keep in touch. Especially you, Lucas. As my trainee, you are obligated to keep me posted.”

“Aye, aye!” Lucas assures her, a big grin on his face. He lifts his hand and gives her a very serious salute.

Prentiss stands up from where she’s sitting across the room with the EDU team and makes her way over to where Jo is standing. “Can I see your Comm?” she asks.

“Sure?” Jo digs the Comm out of her pants pocket and hands it to her.

Prentiss presses a button on her watch and points it towards Jo’s Comm. The light on the side of the Comm flashes twice, both times just barely off-white.

“Eggshell and pearl,” Prentiss says, handing Jo’s Comm back, “so you can call me personally.” She hesitates. “You left an impression on me, and I’d like to keep in touch.”

“I would too,” Jo says, careful not to sound to eager. “I’d love to get to know you better.” It’s a risky statement, but Prentiss gives a genuine smile.

“I’m glad the feeling’s mutual,” she says.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't...write endings. I'm so sorry


End file.
